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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25377283">muse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xighs/pseuds/xighs'>xighs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rare Pairings, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:41:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25377283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xighs/pseuds/xighs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin is an artist. Zuko is a diamond in the rough. When she discovers him serving tea in the slums of Ba Sing Se, she is taken aback at how strikingly he stands out from the rest of the crowd - like he doesn't belong there. Like he belongs in framed artwork instead. Like she could imagine him dotting prestigious museum halls by painters renowned. All amber eyes and intricate scars that hold a thousand stories untold.</p><p>She wants to be the first to capture that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jin/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>avatar tingz</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. woodsmoke and wet skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>MY BRAIN WANTED ME TO SPONTANEOUSLY WRITE ABOUT JIN PAINTING ZUKO IN THE MOST INTIMATE WAY POSSIBLE ON MY PHONE bye</p><p>this was all written on my notes app in between classes ha ha istg i have no self control</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jin is an artist. Zuko is a diamond in the rough. When she discovers him serving tea in the slums of Ba Sing Se, she is taken aback at how strikingly he stands out from the rest of the crowd - like he doesn't belong there. Like he belongs in framed artwork instead. Like she could imagine him dotting prestigious museum halls by painters renowned. All amber eyes and intricate scars that hold a thousand stories untold.</p><p>She wants to be the first to capture that.</p><p>"I think you are beautiful," she blurts, seemingly out of breath.</p><p>Zuko shifts his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.</p><p>The girl's resolve doesn't waver. "My name is Jin," she says. "I'm an art student at Ba Sing Se University. Would you mind if I draw you sometime?"</p><p>Zuko abruptly lifts the tray back up from where he's set it down onto the table after serving her jasmine tea. "Sorry," he apologizes curtly, "but you've got the wrong guy."</p><p>He turns to walk away.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The girl has been visiting the tea shop daily ever since.</p><p>Zuko is beginning to lose his patience.</p><p>He strides over confrontingly to her table one day, snatching the sketchbook from her hands, dragging a jagged line of charcoal across the page in the direction of his pull. Rude.</p><p>He frowns as he studies it, noticing the similarities of the bust poses to his own features. Prominent scar included.</p><p>"I said you've got the wrong guy."</p><p>"Please," she is insistent. "Spend a day with me at the studio."</p><p>"And what do I get in return?" He considers.</p><p>"How does 10 silvers a session sound?"</p><p>"You can do better."</p><p>"15."</p><p>"Better."</p><p>"I stop at 20."</p><p>"Alright," he concedes. </p><p>Jin cracks a smile.</p><p>"I'll see you, then."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It's much more comfortable here.</p><p>Jin will choose working at the studio over the tea shop any day.</p><p>Her supplies are all here, her array of colours too. She's still not that confident in rendering though, but she likes to think that she's getting better at it.</p><p>Zuko's eyes are especially difficult in getting their tones right. At every angle where light catches onto them, they seem to glint in different hues. </p><p>Capturing their reflections are hard too.</p><p>Which makes the challenge all the more exciting for Jin.</p><p>"You must have some fire nation ancestry in you," she notes, breaking the silence. "It's beautiful. The gold in your eyes."</p><p>The boy's face is twisted in a scowl. </p><p>"Could you stop calling me that?"</p><p>Jin blinks, stopping short a freehand sketch of the curve of his left shoulder.</p><p><em>"Beautiful,"</em> he reiterates. "You artists seem to love throwing these kinds of words around."</p><p>"But we almost always mean it," her expression softens.</p><p>Zuko is blushing and it is a colour she keeps in mind to illustrate one day.</p><p>It is such a pretty colour on him.</p><p>"Here, I want you to look at yourself," she stands up, crossing the room to his side. She places a hand onto the seat of his chair, deftly swivelling it towards the mirror up front.</p><p>Zuko is now staring right at his reflection. His immediate reaction is to cringe on sight.</p><p>"You take the word beautiful too liberally," he grumbles.</p><p>With the back of her hand, she gently touches his cheek in chastise.</p><p>"I know what you think," she murmurs.</p><p>He frowns on cue.</p><p>"You see the scar as a deformity."</p><p>A snarl escapes him, whipping his head sideways to look her in the eye. "Do not claim to know me."</p><p>"I do not," she falters, lowering herself in a crouch so she may look up at him this way, seeking reprieve.</p><p>"The scar gives you character," she begins. "I see your perseverance through it. I see your strength. There is a story behind it only you know by heart," her voice lowers in reverence. "It is almost poetic. The secret behind the mar that bears your resilience proud on your face."</p><p>He starts to look away, the weight of her words heavy in the air.</p><p>She reaches out to cup his cheek, turning him back to lock eyes with his.</p><p>"You shouldn't feel ashamed."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"I could do this all night," she says without thought. "Drawing you while you sleep."</p><p>He throws an extra pillow at her and she easily catches it mid-air, propping it behind her seat to her benefit.</p><p>"You artists are so strange."</p><p>She smiles in irony. "As strange as getting paid to sleep?"</p><p>Zuko shuffles under the blanket, shifting to the other side.</p><p>"Hey," she starts to laugh, reaching for his shoulder to turn him back towards her. "Not part of the deal."</p><p>Zuko surprises her then by latching onto her wrist, pulling her in.</p><p>There is an odd stirring in her chest at the compromising position they are now both in. Her sketchbook slips from her other hand. </p><p>She stares at him, unmoving.</p><p>She thinks this is a lovely vantage to sketch him in.</p><p>One day, perhaps.</p><p>"What do you see in me?" He asks in a small voice.</p><p>She feels his insecurity seep through the shadows in his room.</p><p>"Is it just my face?" He wonders. "You find me handsome, do you not?"</p><p>Curiosity has gotten the best of him. The words that slip from his mouth embarrass him so, but it is too late to take them back.</p><p>Jin tugs at his hold on her wrist. "You know I do."</p><p>"Why me?" Zuko asks dumbly. "Why choose me?"</p><p>"I needed a live model for my figure studies," Jin reasons, consciously avoiding the true meaning to his question's intent. "I thought you were perfect for it."</p><p>"Is that all?"</p><p>His breath is close to hers, mingled together. For the first time, Jin struggles to string a sentence.</p><p>Zuko takes her silence as an answer in itself.</p><p>He lets go of her hand.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"I like spending time with you," Jin mentions over one of their many sketching sessions together.</p><p>20 silvers a day.</p><p>A side job for Zuko, if anything.</p><p><em>Nothing more,</em> he tells himself.</p><p>He wants to laugh. "I'm not much for conversation."</p><p>Jin raises her hand, gesturing him to return to the previous pose he was in before he shifted. "Hold on, almost done with this one-" She flicks her wrist. "Cheek to the right a bit more - <em>ah, yes."</em></p><p>Jin's eyes fall back onto the canvas on her easel, resuming her portrait. She's experimenting with colours this time. An attempt at a full render of him.</p><p>Zuko exhales, trying to relax. "I'm not that good at making friends."</p><p>That gives Jin's heart a sad tug. "I mean it," she says. "I like when we fall back to our comfortable silences. And on the rare occasions where you do speak, I like hearing you talk about your uncle."</p><p>Zuko's body twists sheepishly, body betraying him again by tingeing red at the cheeks. "Yeah?"</p><p>"Yeah," she can't help but smile. "I can tell he's very important to you. You know, your face lights up every time we speak of him."</p><p>Zuko clears his throat, shifting in his seat again.</p><p>"I've never seen anything so wholesome," she continues. "Watching one's expression grow fond over a family member like that. It must be nice having someone so treasured in your life."</p><p>Something about the way she says it bothers him. Zuko's eyebrows furrow. "You don't?"</p><p>Jin stills for a moment before making contact to her canvas. </p><p>She doesn't elaborate that she's lost her family to the war. Doesn't elaborate that she's been an orphan almost all her life. Doesn't elaborate that she could hardly remember their faces.</p><p>"I don't."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Why don't we try something different today," Jin offers, pushing her sketchbook away. "Non-work related."</p><p>Zuko's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Where are you getting at?"</p><p>"Have dinner with me," she throws without caution.</p><p>Zuko staggers back from a pose he'd been holding for quite some time. "W-what?" He sputters. Stupid sounds coming out of his pretty mouth.</p><p>Jin bites her lip at the thought. <em>Does she think his mouth pretty?</em></p><p>Perhaps she'd been drawing him too much.</p><p>Anyway, "You could use a break," she says. "You've been working hard."</p><p>Zuko lets out a wry snort. "If you call standing around all day working."</p><p>"Come on, it's on me," the corners of her mouth curve up at the idea. "I've never treated you to a meal before. It's what friends do, right?"</p><p>Zuko is caught off guard with him being referred to as <em>friend.</em> He never really had friends of his own growing up. They were really his sister's in truth. </p><p>"Right," he hears himself say.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Hah!" Jin beams. "What I'd say."</p><p>Zuko stood corrected. Despite the shabby, rundown look of the place, they <em>do</em> serve decent hotpot. The bone broth as their soup base is rich in flavour and the meat cuts are fresh. Juicy, even.</p><p>Zuko is impressed. </p><p>And this is coming from a prince who's grown up with the finest palace food in all of the fire nation.</p><p>"No wonder it's always crowded here," he remarks. "How'd you manage to get us a place?"</p><p>"Oh, Han's got a soft spot for me," Jin grins.</p><p>Zuko stiffens involuntarily in his seat. "Han?" He tries to sound nonchalant. </p><p>"Yeah," she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's the chef here. He's like a father to me."</p><p>Zuko visibly relaxes. "Oh. I thought-" He stops himself. He feels like an idiot for even thinking it.</p><p>Jin drops a few raw beef slices into their steaming hotpot. "You thought?" She prods.</p><p>Zuko loosens his collar, the humidity getting to him. "I thought he might be an old boyfriend or something." He could hit himself right now.</p><p>Jin peers up at him from where her line of vision was previously transfixed onto stirring the broth with her chopsticks, waiting for meat to cook. </p><p>The laugh that comes out of her is soft, almost shy, not unkind. "You care about things like that?"</p><p>"I don't, I-" He shoves his chopsticks in, feeling the meat harden in their shared broth. Attentively takes them out to drop them one by one onto his plate. A means of distraction as he busies himself from looking back up to her amused stare.</p><p>"Do you, though?" He finds himself asking. Mouth moving willfully, <em>traitorously</em> on its own. </p><p>"Have old boyfriends, you mean?" She finishes gently for him.</p><p>He nods, absently brings a piece of meat up to his lips. Bites and chews. All the while not meeting her eyes.</p><p>Jin shrugs, gathering cooked meat to her plate as well. "Yeah, I've dated around."</p><p>When he grunts in acknowledgement to her answer, it is a non-committal sort of sound.</p><p>"Hey," Jin brushes her bare ankle against his from under the table. </p><p>Zuko flushes red at either the sudden contact of skin or from the steam rising from their soup. He cannot tell.</p><p>"I want to show you something after this."</p><p>He dares lift his eyes to meet hers at his chagrin. </p><p>They are the loveliest shade of green.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"It's still a work in progress but," she bites her lip in excitement. "I wanted you to see it first."</p><p>Jin reaches for his hand, guiding him towards the front of the easel. When he sees it for the first time, he does a double take to make sure he isn't staring at a mirror instead.</p><p>"You artists and your modesty," he mutters to the unfinished painting that is good enough to display for exhibit at this point. </p><p>He turns to look at her. "This is amazing." </p><p>"You think so?" She exhales breathlessly, genuinely stunned, as if she couldn't believe him. She is beaming at him as if she is seeing the sun for the first time.</p><p>Zuko hastily lets go of her hand, bringing it up to rub behind his warming neck. Looks to the side, away from her. Not used to the sincerity of it all.</p><p>"Though you take too much liberty on my appearance," he searches for something to nitpick on. Something to balance the praise with. </p><p>"I paint what I see," her voice comes out soft, careful in chide.</p><p>"I do not look that good in real life," he argues.</p><p>"How is your modesty any different from mine?" </p><p>Zuko then faces her in a grimace. "Jin...," words seem to fail him. She is much too introspective for her own good, damn her. </p><p>"We are each our own worst critic, are we not?" </p><p>And damn the way she leaves him speechless.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"I want to be honest with you," he says one day. He wants to learn how to articulate his thoughts more often. The way Jin so boldly articulate hers.</p><p>He wants her to know.</p><p>"I was born to a noble family," he starts. "I've had many portraits taken. The best artists commissioned. I have...," he trails off. Steadies his heart. Swallows. "Never seen an artwork so akin to my likeness before. Not just in features, but also in emotion. How you manage to capture that with the lines of your charcoal. The strokes of your brush. I will never be able to fathom."</p><p>She feels the bloom of a blush spreading from her cheeks. This boy is so beautiful. It is making her heart ache.</p><p>"I see you practice and lose sleep over your art everyday as if you think you are not good enough, but you are more talented than you give yourself credit for," he reprimands. "I have watched you improve sketch after sketch."</p><p>Jin can't help being distracted by Zuko's pretty mouth the longer the loveliness he spouts comes pouring, and at some point in conversation her gaze has absently dropped from eyes to lips, almost trance-like as her own lips part in response, leaning in.</p><p>"...And I don't think I've ever seen anyone blend colours as well as you-" Zuko's eyes widen. <em>"J-jin?" </em></p><p>With her glazed eyes still trained on his lips, Zuko's voice seems distant at the back of her head, as if he isn't within her proximity, as if he's speaking through walls made of plywood, muffled, dulled and subdued. </p><p>Her eyes flick up to those fiery amber irises for just a second, imploring, desperate, "...please, can I?"</p><p>Her whisper against the skin of his cheek sets it ablaze. <em>Are all artists this upfront?</em></p><p>Zuko swallows, eyes falling considerably onto plush lips full of want, panic rising deep within his chest, catching up to his throat - it's like he's forgotten how to breathe-</p><p>Zuko coughs, pulling himself back, as Jin tentatively places a hand on his shoulder, worry and mild regret dawning on her. "Are you okay?"</p><p>"I'm fine-" Zuko flinches from her consoling touch. "I'm fine."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em>..please, can I? </em>The memory of her plead echoes in his mind.</p><p>"What did you mean when you asked that," Zuko starts, his query not sounding like a question at all, though it is phrased like one.</p><p>Jin knew he'll bring this up, eventually. She runs her fingers through her hair, loose and free from her usual braids, and licks her lips, rather chapped in this dry air. "I wanted to kiss you," she says outright. She does not avoid his question this time. Takes it at face value. He deserves at least that.</p><p>Zuko should know this already without it being put into words, but still he stirs from where he stands, facing her. "Don't patronize me."</p><p>"I wanted to kiss you so bad," she admits, staring down at her hands as she leans in further onto the balcony railing on elbows askew. "I hear these beautiful words coming from your mouth, upon a face just as beautiful, a face I've drawn a hundred times before, and I thought, in that moment - there was an urge I couldn't ignore any longer, to seal your lips in mine."</p><p>Zuko's nostrils flare, face heated in a flush he cannot quell, try as he might. "Jin, do not trifle with me."</p><p>She looks to the side, away from his cry of accusation, eyes still downcast. "I am not trifling with you."</p><p>"Then face me."</p><p>She turns to face him then, determined, steady. </p><p>"Then kiss me now if what you say is true."</p><p>She pushes back from the railing to turn to him fully. "You consent it?"</p><p>She is feeling brave. There is nothing left to hide.</p><p>Zuko's mouth hardens in one line. Nods once, slow and stiff. But sure.</p><p>She takes one step forward.</p><p>Lifts a hand up to his neck. </p><p>Tilts it.</p><p>Meets her lips to the flushed skin there. </p><p>"My lips are up here," he grits through clenched teeth, excruciated by this pace she has set. As if just to mock him.</p><p>"But you smell good here," she whispers carelessly, hot breath upon the hollow of his ear, drunk on her touch on him. "And here," her lips brush along chiseled jaw, "and here," she grazes his cheek, and-</p><p>She kisses the corner of his mouth, intently missing it by full, eyes fluttered shut. She doesn't have to tilt him any further as his body has already intercepted her advancements for her, perfectly slotting in his lips with hers the moment she has her head inclined to him so readily for a proper kiss on the lips, moving, moving, <em>moving</em> so eagerly, so curiously against hers, tasting her sweetness that matches the scent of the air she exhales. </p><p>She tastes like jasmine tea.</p><p>Zuko surprises himself with his repressed desires.</p><p>Jin kisses him sweetly before pulling apart, staring into his eyes. "You taste divine."</p><p>Zuko makes a strangled noise, still not used the way she ornaments her choice words.</p><p>"Like woodsmoke and wet skin."</p><p>Zuko pales. "Was it too wet?"</p><p>She leans in to nuzzle her nose against his, a low chuckle caught in her throat. "You doubt yourself too much."</p><p>"And you think too highly of me."</p><p>Jin presses her lips against his once more, cannot help herself when he's this close, and at her expense. "You are my muse, after all."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>why is zuko so handsome WHY</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. fingerprints and charcoal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok so this artist/muse au just SUITS THEM SO WELL and i HAD to further the story</p><p>sorry for listing this as a oneshot at first, this is a twoshot, MAX</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts immediately. All at once. No pacing, she was never one for pacing. </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Catching him off guard after sketching sessions with intimate hugs from behind, sometimes even availing a wayward hand up his tunic. Sliding higher, higher. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When has she ever been subtle?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He tenses up and feels himself growing hot, as always with her spontaneous displays of affection. <em>"Jin...,"</em> he scolds out of chastity, but it comes out disgruntled. Like he isn't quite sure what he wants. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She gives where her palm is currently spread across his taut chest a gentle push, lowering his centre of gravity until eager lips meet the crook of his neck. It's harder than it looks doing this while standing up. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko is tall.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin can manage.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He bends at her touch as always. She places a kiss on his neck. "Harmless enough," she murmurs against the flushed skin there.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She lets go of him in one abrupt movement, staggering back to take a good look at him. Zuko sighs heavily at her release, looking down pointedly at her. It bears less effect with those glassy, distracted eyes of his. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Help me," she breathes, tearing her eyes off him, already making her way about the studio. "Gather all the coloured graphite pencils you can find, bring me reds and pinks."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She doesn't need to see him to know that he's frowning. "What are you-"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"-you'll know soon enough," she cuts in. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko sighs but makes haste.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His upper abdomen still buzzing warmth from where her palm had put pressure on. Along with the flush on his skin spreading like bleeding ink on parchment from where her lips had lingered.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
  <p>"I can't tell if your affections toward me are genuine anymore," Zuko accuses for the millionth time.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Soft, ephemeral, laughter escapes her as she leans in for an indulgent kiss. "You can't tell if this is genuine?" She whispers low against them, teasing. Zuko cannot help himself. He surges right back, capturing her lips once more with one hand gripped onto her face. She takes him in, languidly working her lips against his. They break apart with a distinct <em>smack.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're using me for colour studies," he pouts, warm breath on her face. Reminiscent of ash. He always smells like ash.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin stares at his mouth with eyes half-lidded, still very much distracted. Especially with them pouting so petulantly at her like that. It's adorable. She swipes the tip of her tongue at his upper lip. Playful. "You've let me used you before."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko blushes violently again. Jin did note that it was a colour she plans to illustrate one day. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Speaking of which-</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The scrap paper she's currently using as canvas is much smaller than her usual medium of choice, but it'll have to do. Zuko simply refuses to pose for her formally. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They are both now lounging on their sides atop the studio's daybed, her legs tangled in his to keep him somewhat pinned. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin has coral and carmine reds at her disposal, along with neutral creams for base skintone. His outlines, she knows by heart- but it's always the rendering she struggles blending with. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's gorgeous when you blush."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She says it so earnestly it makes him want to cover his face in his hands.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Do you mind if...," her voice trails off. He follows her eyes down to the loose collar of his tunic.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin brings her eyes back up to his look of suspicion. Makes a gesture with her hand to her words. Graphite in between fingers. "The colour creeps down across your chest, and-" She flicks the pencil in a pivot to the fabric in question. "Your shirt obscures it."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko's ears redden. "You're such a pervert."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm an artist." Jin tilts her head at him, allowing herself a small, amused smile.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>For a long moment, he does not comply. It takes him awhile to contemplate. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The air of levity ceases.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Sorry, I-" He clears his throat, untangling his legs from hers and sitting up. Suddenly serious. "It's uncomfortable for me," he starts. Tries to explain further. "I've always been uncomfortable in my own skin," he looks away. "Sometimes, even your explorative touches are a little-"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hey," she interrupts, lifting herself up from her perch on her elbow to gently cup his cheek. Eyes laced with concern. "Why haven't you said anything before?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He turns his head into the inside of her palm. Not wanting to face her. "I tend to lose myself in the moment," he admits, in a small voice.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin has never felt more sorry. "I never mean to put you at unease," she says, shaking her head. "Please, be open with me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>"Jin,"</em> he turns to meet her eyes, reaching his hands for her. She instinctively wraps her arms around his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I won't do anything further. I promise."</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>"Not-"</em> the words are stuck in his throat. He thinks himself not brave enough to let them out. <em>"...yet."</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin laughs gently at that, nuzzling his cheek. "Not entirely opposed to the idea, are we now?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko groans, burying his head in her neck, gripping her tighter around the waist to his embarrassment. "I don't want to rush," he mumbles.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Then we take our time," her lips brush up against his ear in a promise.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It starts slow. One after another. Pacing, she was careful with her pacing. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He has been beginning to feel the loss of her spontaneous touches nowadays. They lessen each day. He thinks he knows why.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"We're starting a new syllabus," she says when he asks what's on her mind. Expecting a different answer. "Something I've never thought to explore further on my own before."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Anything I can do to help?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her eyes flash back up to his for just a split second, considering, before they falter back to her canvas. "On the contrary, I'm letting you off next week."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "You're kicking me out."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You deserve the rest."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's never work for me when I'm with you. You know that."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin stops short a hand gesture she was sketching, placing the stick of charcoal atop the easel's bottom canvas holder. "I just need this time for myself to catch up in class."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"And I'm withholding you back." A statement. Not a question.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin crosses the room at an instant, rushing to him on the daybed as she smothers him in an impassioned kiss. Always so impulsive, always unthinking.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Charcoal stained hands leave dusty fingerprints across pale cheeks as she clutches him. Exasperated. "You're always one to argue."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Not without good reason."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"There is nothing for you to worry."</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>"Vague,"</em> he notes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Mm, open wider," she coaxes his mouth open to slip a tongue in. He reciprocates. Almost hungry for it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I've missed this," he slurs in between open mouthed kisses.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She lets out a soft moan when he makes way to ravish her neck, one leg wrapped around him. When she feels his arousal through his pants, she instinctively grinds against it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko balks, but not before pressing back against her in response.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Sorry," she pants, chest heaving as it rises and falls. "I wasn't thinking."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko is panting too. </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>"Jin,"</em> he rasps, voice throaty. "There's something you must know."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She leans against his chest. One hand on his heart. As if to catch its erratic pulse in it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I've never...," he searches for words. "I've never done this before."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin's expression softens. He cannot see it. "I know."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You've known for how long?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Awhile," her lips brush against a jutting clavicle.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You find me less desirable, this way?" He cannot seem to stop himself from voicing his insecurities. He lets his mouth run. "Being so inexperienced?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Never," she lifts her head to catch unfocused ambers. Drawing them to her gaze. "Not once."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko is restless.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The break in routine is odd, even for him. When Iroh asks why isn't he at the university, "You're usually gone by this hour", Zuko doesn't give him a straight answer. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His uncle is no stranger to his nephew's temperament. He treads cautiously. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The student, <em>Jin,</em> was it?" Iroh prods, peering at him from his bowl. "She used to be a regular."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko nods, almost mechanical. The clinking of wooden chopsticks on ceramic bowls fill the ambient silence.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She paying you enough?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko shrugs. Brings a clump of plain rice to his mouth. Forgets to flavour it with gravy from the herbal stew. Doesn't bother anyway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well, so long as she's treating you well," Iroh muses. "It's not easy balancing two jobs, Prince Zuko."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko sets his bowl down onto the table with a slam harder than intended. Aims his glare at his uncle. "Don't call me that." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Iroh doesn't budge. "Did something happen at work?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko stands abruptly, vexed from all the unwarranted questioning. Closing his eyes, he breathes slowly through his nostrils, dispersing steam. He turns back and heads to the kitchen without a word to dump the leftovers from his bowl.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Any longer he would've flipped the table right over. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knows better than to let his anger get to him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The week goes by slow. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It is not the same without Jin.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Daytime feels like purgatory knowing he won't be seeing Jin at the end of the day. He's gotten so used to their nightly routine it seems foreign having all this unoccupied time to himself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It is unlike him to be so reliant on someone other than himself. All independence thrown out the window without caution. His past self would've scoffed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>When the main door creaks open, his first instinct has never been to immediately turn back. When footsteps approach the counter, not once had he expected it to belong to anyone of concern. Unfazed and disinterested, he faces front to take another dull order of the day, eyes downcast. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hands that do not resemble a weathered old man's strike him as strange at first. They don't usually reign in younger customers, much less females. It's always the same crowd of retirees looking for a getaway from their nagging wives at home. No, these hands are smooth, fingers lean, wrists thin, the green fabric of this person's sleeves achingly familiar-</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His head snaps up, eyes widening.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They meet with olive irises. <em>"Jin,"</em> he finds his voice.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I've missed you," she rips the words right out of him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wants her in his arms.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Look, I won't be long," she says. "My classes resume after lunch hour-"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"We don't serve food here-"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She covers a hand over his, lowering her voice as she brings her face nearer. "I only want tea." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Heat floods his face and he knows damn well she could see it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He lets his gaze drop carelessly to lips he could almost taste if desperation pushes him far enough to close this distance. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He feels the whole room staring. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He loosens his collar and pulls back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"One jasmine tea," he mutters to Iroh, visibly flustered.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko could hear the coy smile in Iroh's voice when he replies, "I see your employer treats you <em>very</em> well at work."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko could strangle his uncle right then and there. For lack of better response, he lets out a miserable groan instead.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He could hear Iroh chuckling from behind.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko is restless.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He thinks he might visit Jin today. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He is already on his way there now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>If Jin can pay random visits to his tea shop, he can very well pay random visits to her university's art studio too. (Right?) He doesn't think too much of it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Patience was never one of his virtues.</p>
  <p>Besides, she might like the surprise. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His footsteps echo against linoleum floors. Ba Sing Se University's art faculty is huge, but isn't unfamiliar to him. He knows this place like the back of his hand.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Light floods from a nearby window, left of the dim hall. It stings his eyes. He rushes forward for the rusty door handle, pushing it open to his leverage. Takes a moment for his vision to readjust.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He hears the screech of a wooden stool first, scraping the floor. He blinks, suddenly aware of a third person in the studio. Jin's studio.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She usually has it booked for herself at this hour. Always the same hours. Always exceeding her booking hours. She practically lives here. The whole faculty knows it's <em>hers.</em> Among the 20 available studios in this entire building, this crammed up corner has always been hers to claim.  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It make sense for him to be taken aback this way. She's usually alone.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He stares up at the boy no less his age and regrets it immediately. He does not think himself a prude, but he is no liberal artist either. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He begins to blink his astigmatism away, bringing his vision back to focus on Jin in front of him instead.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hi," she is biting her lip. There is no reason for her to feel guilty over no wrong that has been committed. So why was guilt filling her anyway?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well-" His jaw tightens. "Have you finally <em>caught up</em> in class?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>At the corner of his eye, the nude model at the centre of the room is scrambling to take cover from the lain sheets.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's not what you think-"</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>"Then why all the hiding! The sneaking around!"</em> He hisses through his teeth, running fingers through his hair in frustration.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Patience-</p>
</div><div>
  <p>was never one of his virtues. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When the model has hastily strewn his clothes over himself and gathered his things, he takes one apologetic look at Jin, then excuses himself out the studio.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko barely takes notice. Not when his sole attention is on Jin right now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She takes in a breath. Braces herself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The faculty has finally allowed female students to paint nude anatomy," Jin attempts weakly. <em>"Us. Females! Allowed to paint nude,"</em> she can't help but beam. "Something once prohibited before this, unheard of until now-" the words come pouring. She clasps his hand in her ardour. "I want to be great. I saw this opportunity as the university finally being progressive for once, and I want-" She stammers. "I want to be great at it."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wrenches his hand off of hers. Mind elsewhere. "Who is he?" He gestures to the door with the same hand, unsteady. "The boy who sheds clothes for you every night- Who is he?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She flinches at his tone. He is completely missing the point. "A senior. He needed the extra income."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Have you slept with him?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She shoots a glare at Zuko. Incredulous. <em>"Are you hearing yourself?"</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>He edges closer, clenching and unclenching his hands. "Why keep it a secret, then?" His voice comes out broken. "And has it <em>ever</em> crossed your mind to ask me instead?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She flinches at his words but stands her ground. "You know I would never forgive myself if I'd ever pressured you into saying yes to something you're not comfortable with."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They aren't touching but she feels the heat from his skin, faces inches apart. <em>"Don't patronize me,"</em> he spits.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You know I could never ask that of you."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>"Don't-"</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She rushes into him. Impulsive. There is no hesitation. There is enough hesitation in this world. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She can't bear it no more.</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>"Jin,"</em> he sounds pained. His body betrays him as he leans into the crown of her head. Like a reflexive pull. Jasmine, she always smells like jasmine.</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>I'm sorry</em> she wants to say but "Trust me," is what comes out instead. "What I've said is all there is."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It somehow sets him off. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There are lines that have been crossed. There are truths that have been kept hidden. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Their embrace has been short-lived as Zuko reluctantly shrugs back. Away from all consolation that clouds judgement. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her eyes seem to be holding him in place. He wants to say something. Doesn't say anything.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He tears his eyes from her and makes his way towards the main door instead. Gives it one forceful push that almost rips it right off its hinges. There are scorch marks on the cheap plywood.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin's paintings are praised in class. Her lecturer encourages her to add them to her portfolio. <em>Exemplary,</em> he calls them. All artistic conventions in this era's renaissance mimicked to perfection. Tailored to the connoisseur's ideals. From scale and proportion to shadow and light. She has followed all principles so meticulously her paintings are almost faultless. Studied by the book.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She has half a mind to throw a wet washcloth at them right then and there.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>These intrusive thoughts are beginning to worry her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She shakes them off by spending more hours in her work. Counterproductive. She should really start getting another hobby.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin tries to practice still life of the assorted fruits on display but they always come out unfinished everytime she starts. The muscle memory of the joints of her fingers always falling back to familiar bust sketches of a scarred boy whose features she has memorized by heart.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He has stopped coming.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She has stopped drawing other people.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's a funny thing. Habit.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>You forget the eggshells you are walking on.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And yet, habit leads her straight here anyway. Lets it pull her anyway. Complying.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"How are you?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She has never been subtle.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>When he serves her her jasmine, he does not meet her eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I've been better."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He hasn't sprinted off from her table yet. She takes it as a good sign. Somewhat. Her thumb rubs circles onto the pad of her ring finger. A habit she does when she's anxious. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's lonely," it comes out rushed, comes out raw, "without you," she exhales. "Some nights, I still expect you to come. Some nights, I still wait. I paint fruits when you're not around. When I give up painting, I take one and bite into it. Sometimes the fruit is rotten and I could hardly tell. Everything tastes the same nowadays." She looks down to her cup. "Even this tea."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's been weeks since she last produced a nude painting. She takes baby steps into it. Women first. Anatomy she also possess that isn't exactly a mystery to her. She knows her own body well enough to recognize the similarities of its dips, bends and curves in others.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her models are kind. They don't talk much. They know about the scarred muse who has left her. Her acclaimed pieces have been of him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As always with artists who have lost their muses, their touch in the art comes next. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I don't know, it's starting to lack life in them," she's heard a comment passed in class on one of her paintings.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin is no stranger to critique. She's heard worse before.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But this time when she tries to compensate her lackluster by practicing harder, her efforts come out in vain. It takes her awhile but when she finally musters the courage to draw nude men again, the initial sketches of their facial features always seem to contort into someone else altogether. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Panic rises in her chest at the realization as she hurries to erase the outlines once again. Never getting them right.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko-</p>
</div><div>
  <p>he seems to haunt her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>When he arrives unannounced one late night at her studio, she thinks she is deluded. "Are you real?" She slurs, head tilted in fascination. She's had a few cups to drink. It keeps her blood running warm on cold nights like this. Or so she tells herself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>For the first time, she does not smell like jasmine.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>When the shadowy figure with a scar so much like Zuko's embraces her, she brings charcoal stained fingers to trace pale skin even paler under moonlight. "A ghost, then," she decides. Black dust smears ragged across sharp cheekbone guided by fingers that linger near his ear from where the trail ends.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He makes no sound.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You look like him," her lips twitch upwards in a curious grin. "Like the boy in my paintings-" She stumbles away from him, unceremoniously. "Have you seen them?" She sidesteps to her right and almost misses her footing.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The ghost hovers near her, ready to catch her if she were to fall.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She waves a hand over haphazardly placed canvases of different sizes across the studio, walking wayward. Turns to her guest. Frowns. "You do not like them?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She now finds him crouched beside an easel, inspecting a near empty bottle of wine in his hand. "Typical," he mutters under his breath.</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>"You-!</em>" She exclaims. It pierces through the stillness of the night. Like the sound of ripped fabric. She points an accusatory finger at him, vision unfocused. Drags her legs forward. <em>"You even sound like him." </em>She stares at the ghost. Perturbed. Unnerved.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko rises steadily from his crouch. Frown deepening as he studies her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She sees the creases in his face so clearly in the streaming moonlight. He disapproves of her. Just like her peers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No matter," she composes herself. Levels her voice. Slumps her torso to the side. Haughty. The loosely clung fabric follows the movement as the low cut of her wrap dress gives way to expose her bare shoulder, slinking down. "I will be rid of him soon enough." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He glances at her. Wary. "How do you mean."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oil, acrylic, watercolour, chalk, charcoal-" her eyes wander to the faint lines of charcoal on his face, then to the easel behind him. A scrap piece of paper lies curled away atop the bottom canvas holder. She walks towards it in a daze. Reaches for it. Uncurling it to reveal a good memory. Her rendering of his blush. "-graphite," she finally says. "I've done him in all."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her hand drops. As does the paper to the floor. "I thought I could tire my hands entirely of him until they could draw no more of the same person."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A sense of awareness dawns on Zuko. His eyes dart to the scattered artwork across the room, in front of him, back- body twisting as he spies more and more around him bearing the same muse. Some abstract; fluid lines of body gestures, only movements, no face. Some unfinished portraits; rendered realism in eyes, nose and mouth but skin halfway shaded in. His likeness repeated with different expressions, different renditions on different mediums.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There is one piece that stands out from the rest. Its canvas significantly smaller than the rest. It is the only one without a scar depicted. What he could've looked like had he not been burnt.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I was curious," she murmurs. It was the last artwork made before he arrived. Outlined in charcoal. Remnants of it on the palms of her hand. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Jin," his eyebrows gather as they crease. "This has to stop."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It <em>has</em> stopped," she smiles faintly before her legs start to give out, body swaying.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Uh...," her head hurts. And why is the room sideways? </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Zuko surges forward, catching Jin before she falls.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She feels her whole body rising and falling on her side. Rhythm steady. She's half awake but it lulls her to surrender to sleep. She could make out a heartbeat in tandem to the movement. It feels like the comfort of a sweet dream.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her nose wrinkles. Detects the chemical odour of paint. Not pungent, just distinct. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Funny. She didn't know she could smell in dreams. She thinks she has her eyes open but everything is still so dark. No moon outside. Like the darkest hour before dawn.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There's a dull ache in her neck. She turns on her back, away from the heartbeat, and groans. She brings her hands up to her eyes, thumbs massaging her temples.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She feels like shit.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>An arm slides in under her waist, then another protectively on top. Both arms curl around her when they meet.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She remembers last night in fragments, vague memories she tries to chronologically piece together appearing in her mind like blotched ink, one after another in no particular order. "What-" her throat feels dry. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Come back to sleep."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She knows that voice. Struggles in vain to distance herself from it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Get out," she sounds hurt, her hands pushing. His hold on her is firm. He does not give. "Get out if you won't stay."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I want to stay."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're awful when you're jealous," she chokes, pushing again. "You won't listen to me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm listening now."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He pulls her close to his chest. She thrashes against ribs. Zuko endures it willingly. Thinks he deserves it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Awful," she huffs, relenting. Tired.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I miss you," he says how he feels. How bleak it is without her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jin groans again. Into his chest. It reveberates through his body. He kisses her head in his regret.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Have you seen my paintings," she mutters, about to doze off.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I have," he whispers, soft.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Can you guess how I felt."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I did," he holds her tighter. This precious thing.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They fall back to sleep once more.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>look i wanted to subject zuko to a draw me like one of your french girls scene BUT HE? JUST?? WONT LET ME??? smh this is as far as he goes tho he MIGHT give in to jin's indulgence in a hypothetical third chapter......BUT THIS IS A TWOSHOT, MAX</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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